Pieces of A Pirate
by Med Bajer
Summary: There's so much we don't know about you, so much you've kept hidden inside... And the rogue we see is only a surface. Jack Sparrow as we don't him, as a boy, as a man, as a pirate.


**Pieces of A Pirate**

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**Hi there! This is my first POTC fic, so please forgive me if it isn't very good. Personally I feel that the characters are a little OOC, especially Jack… * sigh *  Feedback is appreciated. **

**~*~ **

The night sky formed a looming plain of black, the stars shining like little lights in contrast to the dim inky void. The moon hung there, a sickle of sable like a tree among the flowers, the starts seemingly dancing around her.

Jack Sparrow's eyes danced along with the stars too, as he sat upon the deck, watching the serene night sky. This was the life, this was what he had wanted all along; the freedom of flying on water with a ship to call his own, waking up to a red sunrise from the east every morning and basking in the moonlight at night, caressed by the cool sea breezes and kissed by sea-spray. Aye, this was life, and he would not have had it any other way.

The Black Pearl had been anchored to the seabed, and she rested for the night, bobbing ever so slightly on the calm water surface. The night was beautiful, and the conditions optimal for a good night's sleep. But Jack would have slept in any sea condition; the crashing of waves was almost a lullaby to him now. The pleasant sound of water lapping wood reached his ears and the pirate smiled. 

Someone came up to the deck, his shoes making soft thuds as they hit wood. Jack did not even turn around, but his smile grew wider. "Ahoy there, Will."

"Jack," Will Turner replied, a smile gracing his sharp features. 

Jack Sparrow shook his head rolled his eyes, still not turning around to face his friend. "It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, savvy? _Captain_. And don't you forget that, laddie."

"Aye," Jack walked across to sit beside his friend, kicking off his heavy shoes as he did so.

The pirate raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the leather shoes, "expensive stuff, no? But I'll wager 'tis yore missus' doing, aye?"

There was no reply, but Will smiled somewhat bashfully, regarding his shoes with chagrin, but also not without a glow of pride.

"You can't sleep." The sentence was no question, but an outright statement.

Will shook his head and cast his blue eyes out to the sea. "I don't sleep very well on water."

Jack did not make an effort to suppress his smirk as he leaned forward to whisper in his friend's ear, "no, 'tis not the sea, laddie. You miss your bonnie lass, doncha, matey?"

"I just don't sleep well on a ship," Will said, and averted his eyes from his friends queer, uncanny greenish-gray gaze.

Jack laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "You was never a good one at lying, William Turner. You're just like yore father."

The sentence hung in the air and suddenly an uncomfortable silence grew between them. Jack Sparrow sighed and turned his gaze back to the sea, suddenly at a loss for words. 

"It wasn't your fault, Jack."

"It was, Will. He died for me." The pirate's usually musical voice became heavy and coarse and deep with grief.

Will reached out and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He was only doing what a friend should have done. If I were him I would have done the same thing too, and I'm sure you would have as well."

"You don't understand," the pirate's tone was short and clipped as he drew away from Will's touch.

"Hell, I do understand, Jack! He was my bloody father, of course I understand! You just think – "

"No, you _don't_ understand, Will! Nobody will; they don't know what he did for me, nobody knows what we've been through, how much so that it was all my fault he died!"

The easy conversation that had just existed earlier had disappeared, and was fast replaced by an angry, uneasy tension. The silence persisted for a moment before the pirate tried to end it. "Look, I just – "

"You know, nobody would understand if you had never told anyone about your past." Will's voice was soft as he looked away in frustration. 

When the pirate did not reply, Will took it as a sign of assent and probed very carefully, fully aware of the fragile ground on which he trod on. "Could you tell me more about you, Jack? Could you?"

When the pirate finally replied his voice was soft, and very much unlike the voice of the pirate that Will had been so accustomed to. "Do you think I don't want to, Will? Do you really think so? Damn it, lad, I can't open myself up so freely as it seems. Hell, I don't know who I can trust and who I can't, boy."

"You don't trust me?" Jack Sparrow's words had hurt the blacksmith more than he liked to show. He had long since considered the pirate as the best friend he had ever had and had thought too, that Jack had known of the sentiment and returned it. 

"It's not that, lad. But look at Barbossa; I thought he were a friend, a good friend. And I told him more about myself than I ever would to anyone else now, lad, and look what happened. He dumped me to die on a bloody desert island and sent yore daddy down to Davy Jone's Locker. So do you think I'd dare tell anyone else about me now? Betrayal hurts, lad." 

These words hurt Will even more than the previous ones, and he stared at the pirate whom he had come to trust and love as a dear friend. "I'm never going to betray you, Jack, you know it."

The soft laughter of the pirate was startlingly bitter, "hell, lad, d'you think that Barbossa's the only one I ever were close to? Look at yore daddy; he knew me too, knew me too well, and he died for it. And all the other people I ever loved and trusted left me. So d'you think it's gonna be so easy to open up my heart again, lad? I'm human; losing things I love hurts me too – more than you'll ever know."

"I'll never know if you don't tell me." Will's voice was soft. His dark brown eyes never left the pirate's and he smiled softly. "Besides, pirate, what makes you think I'll be leaving any time soon? I'll still be around for a long time to plague you." A smile quirked the young face.

Jack only raised his eyebrow. 

Deep in his heart he dearly wanted to do so, tell someone about his past, let someone see the side that he kept hidden for so long. But the ghosts of the past, the heartache of loving and knowing and losing gripped him so, held him back. Finally Jack broke free of their grasp; he knew he could trust Will. 

"All right, you young scallywag. Listen up now, uncle Jack's going to tell a story."


End file.
